One of the many things to which bitch-boy was subjected during Mistress Jane’s last visit, at her suggestion, was he have his fingernails painted like a proper sissy. The fingernails of each hand a different colour, just to make sure he looked as ridiculous as possible, and little gems stuck on for good measure.
His little fingers then looked especially ridiculous in his fingerless lace gloves (one of his Christmas presents). Within half an hour of his ‘manicure’ he had lost two of the gems (possibly because of the frequency his hands were tied behind his back – who knows,) and he was punished very severely for this ingratitude and clumsiness. Just one of the many times that day that his sore bottom was subjected to cane and paddle and tawse. All the next day his bottom remained red and bruised and sore. What a perfect way to pay homage to Mistress Jane’s visit even long after she had gone home and got on with her own full life.
Well Mistress Jane visited my place for the third time yesterday. I find her as thoroughly adorable as bitch-boy finds her frightening I think. His humiliations included me returning from the station with Mistress Jane to a bound bitch-boy, in a nappy with padlocked, pink, PVC, lockable plastic panties over the top. Mistress Jane found the panties so amusing and bitch-boy was so humiliated. He had to wear them for quite a while before eventually being allowed to remove them. That did not really bring him any relief from deep shame and bitchy, derisive comments though, as it meant his shaved, diminutive genitalia were then on show with the hem of his pink, frilly little girl dress sitting above that bundle of exposed, useless sissy-man-flesh. Obviously the removal of the PVC panties also meant his bottom and genitalia were properly vulnerable to punishment. Several session with cane, paddle, tawse and other items followed through the day (as well as lots and lots of other fun things!). Given how sore his bottom was already, the last punishment session may well have given him the most sore bottom he has ever had. The tears were a joy. I am already writing up a detailed journal entry on Mistress Jane’s visit for publication in Volume No.9. It will include the application of an idea from Mistress Jane which was a variation on the concept of detention line-writing. An idea that I rank as one of the very, very best ideas for subjugation of a slave that I have ever come across! Innovative, demeaning for the slave, rewarding for the Domme – perfect in every way – just like Mistress Jane. By the time I had got home from dropping off Mistress Jane at the station and then finished my personal fun with poor bitch-boy, I have to say he was absolutely and totally shattered and completely cowed. Not that I felt any guilt – he had spent 5 hours plus in the presence of two beautiful, cruel Mistresses. A submissive’s dream – surely?
I am not sure how many readers of these blog posts read the comments that get posted. I found a recent couple of comments worthy of posting for those who do not normally read all the comments. The first, from the Q&A section, where bitch-boy responds with my permission to questions asked of him. The question asked was:
Ms Scarlet seems to delight putting you in sensory deprivation a lot. However do you deal with the many hours of confinement and sensory deprivation, it must get so mind numbing?
I do not deal with it. I hate it but I cannot get out of it. It is mind numbing as you say. It just fills me with a feeling of helplessness and vulnerability and makes me feel exactly like a toy that has been put back on the shelf until I am needed to play with again. Mistress Scarlet has made it plain, and it is obvious when I have looked at her while begging for this particular torment to be dropped, that Mistress really, really enjoys it. Mistress says it makes her feel so very powerful while Mistress is downstairs relaxing and engaged in things she enjoys, that I am upstairs, blind, deaf, immobile, vulnerable and constantly tasting piss or semen for two or three hours. It is something she really loves. Very often after, I later discover, around two hours have passed, I can sense her laying by my head and after a while the bed shudders a little and I know Mistress has bought herself to climax because she has been so turned on downstairs with her mind occasionally turning to my predicament, she has had to come upstairs to satiate her arousal. I have to say I do not deal with it. I hate it intensely.
The second unrelated comment from a sub to an apparently cruel, exploiting, Mistress described her state of being regarding her sub. I very, very much liked the words and saw myself reflected in them. I paraphrase them below:
Completely selfish and self-indulgent, no bottom to my greed. I will take and take and take until there is nothing left. I destroy something beautiful, that being my sub’s worship and submission – abused and siphoned until the sub is a broken human being, moulded in the image of my destruction.
Mistress Jane is visiting next weekend. Wonderful! I love her dearly. So mean and clever and attractive and fun. In our email exchanges this week, I had emailed her a list of things I do with poor bitch-boy from time to time which she has still yet to witness/take part in. Much to bitch-boy’s misery, one of the things Mistress Jane chose from the list for next weekend is bitch-boy having fresh urine squirted into his funnel gag when he is in TSD bondage on the BDSM bed. (I have some syringes with nozzles the thickness of drinking straws.)
I responded with a question which I felt truly demonstrated the cruelty and power wielded by us. ‘Whose urine should we use, yours or mine?‘ Mistress Jane responded at the top of her game as always, that it would only be fair (to us) if we used both her urine and mine. bitch-boy could not have looked more sad and anxious when I told him about her response.
Following up on my blog post of yesterday, bitch-boy actually ended up being locked in his diapers and plastic pants, (and heavy rubber collar and baby reins) for over 13 hours. He was so sorry for himself. I laughed and laughed as he answered my interrogation questions about his day as we drove home from the station. (There was a slight whiff of ammonia in the car.)
After only around 4 hours the diapers became too inundated and his plastic pants began leaking. He tried wearing a second diaper over the top of the original diaper and plastic pants. LOL. He also had to put a large bin liner on the chair with towels over the top if he wanted to sit down (once all his chores were finished.) In addition, the buckles at the rear of the baby reins had made very deep indentations into his shoulder blades. Oh he did feel sorry for himself!
He has an extra pile of laundry to do this morning as a result of his ‘situation’ yesterday. He also has a serious caning to start the day with because, amazingly, he failed to do one of the chores on the list. (He had obviously got into such state with his tribulations.) I texted him often yesterday – I could not stop thinking about the awful time he was no doubt having while I was having such a pleasurable day. I did feel very, very powerful and very cruel. I like to feel those things.
Well I am out all day in London with some girl friends. A coffee shop, then late lunch in an expensive restaurant, then cocktails in an expensive cocktail bar. Normally this would mean a good few hours of cotton bondage for bitch-boy, BUT, I want to have quite a bit of alcohol today so I need bitch-boy to drive me to the station this morning and pick me up later tonight. So what to do with/to bitch-boy so that he suffers some abuse and provides even more pleasure for me through the day than I would get anyway.
You may recall, one of his Christmas presents was lockable plastic panties which go over diapers. Well, I have just dressed bitch-boy in diapers and the lockable plastic panties and he is padlocked in with plastic padlocks each with a unique number. I have also used a plastic padlock to secure a thick rubber collar around his neck and I have used more plastic padlocks to secure his baby reins around his chest and shoulders. (The cuffs at the front and long leashes at the back are removable.) I had him look in the mirror before I allowed him to dress. I just laughed and laughed at his appearance and the thought of the likely 12 hour day/evening ahead of him. I am such a bitch!
He found some old trousers that had a waistband two inches bigger than those he now wears. They fitted although he whined that the bulging underneath was obvious – which it was. As was the creaking of the PVC when he moved. I simply informed him that that was not my problem. A polar necked sweater hid the collar. So he is ready to drive me to the station, (after he has licked me to a huge orgasm – I am feeling so cruel I know it will be!).
What a sad face! I have given him a long list of chores to attend to and informed him that as all the chores will be done today, he can spend all of tomorrow dressed as a little girl and playing with his dollies. Amazingly his face became even sadder – I thought that was impossible!
(Unlike the panties in the photo in the link, his plastic panties are pink and do not have access holes.)
Well the date is set. My new young, attractive, female play-toy will be visiting and experiencing domination in which she has no say, and poor bitch-boy will be thoroughly cuckolded and pushed even further down the food chain. My new play-toy obviously has a lower status than me, (she says she’s kind of in awe of me), and bitch-boy’s status is much, much lower than hers, given she is a woman.
It’s been a while since bitch-boy has been cuckolded. He timidly begged me not to cuckold him and informed me it makes him feel marginalised, of virtually no worth to me, insecure and vulnerable. Obviously I answered that – him feeling all those things was a great pleasure to me and also that he absolutely should feel all those things. As a cuckold he is marginalised and of virtually no worth to me. And I also told him that he is right to feel insecure and vulnerable because who can predict what the outcome of me getting together with a new female, young, attractive play-toy might be? How sad, dejected, and indeed vulnerable he looked as he looked up into my eyes and then slowly walked away. I felt a lovely power rush and a complete bitch – which I am!